As I entered my room, I saw the bathroom mirror was slightly cloudy.

I’m struggling to admit and recognize where I am. I’m struggling to accept that, even though I ‘know’ Truth, those words could be said by God, or anyone else, to me. I know the ugliness inside of me. I feel like I don’t deserve God’s love and forgiveness even though I know we all fall short. I feel closed off. I feel like an imposter.

To trust … I have to let my guard down.

I want to be seen and known and at the same time, I want to hide. I want to be seen and known by Jesus. Shame over past decisions of my own and others made for me, make me want to hide.

The mirror is more cloudy.

I keep holding onto my sin as a badge, allowing the enemy to keep a grip on me. UGH!

“Open, shut them, open, shut them,” this childhood song plays in my mind as I see the pattern of my own making. I start to open up to what God is saying to me, and just that quickly, I shut down. I start to open up again and soon the vault door closes … again. 

My habits have muscle memory. 

I couldn’t sing ‘Run to the Father’ because I felt that I didn’t deserve to run to the Father and be comforted by him.

God is always healing. I want to accept his healing. Jesus goes out of his way to meet with me. Jesus does not condemn me. He is so kind.

The mirror is more cloudy. 

I need to realize where I am. The enemy comes to steal, kill, and destroy. Jesus came so that I may have a full life.

In prayer, I see myself on a bluff with the Holy Spirit. He’s tall, strong, loving, and comforting. He gave me the name Domicile. I am a dwelling place, a home. He embraces me with his strong arms and I lean into his chest. 

I see many trees with beautifully colored Autumn leaves. A canopy of beauty. 

God is inviting me to come out of hiding. 

The mirror is cloudy because I haven’t been seeing myself clearly. 

A realization that I’m in a battle over my beauty. 

A false belief my whole life that I can’t be beautiful. I’m forced to search for the reasons why I have believed this.

~ As a little girl, I was constantly called a boy no matter how I was dressed or how long my hair was. Conclusion: Boys can’t be beautiful.

~ Comparing myself to others. If they are the standard for beauty, I can’t be beautiful because I don’t look like them.

~ I’ve sinned. I’ve made wrong choices. I’ve thought ugly thoughts. Conclusion: I can’t be beautiful. I can’t look at God or others in the eye because of my ugly sin.

~ The belief that I will never measure up to _____ so I can’t be beautiful.

“Please Lord Jesus, help me to see myself as your bride.”

“My Beloved, will you be my bride?”

“Yes, I will.”